


The Lower Levels

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Lightsaber Used as a Sex Toy, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, don't read if you don't like noncon, literally everything listed is nonconsensual, obi-wan's age isn't actually stated but i was picturing him as 18ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Not everybody in the lower levels is fond of the Jedi(Just a graphic noncon story that I wanted to exist but didn't want to have associated with my username, so I'm posting it anonymously instead)





	The Lower Levels

“You will let me pass.” Obi-Wan put his hand out in front of him as he spoke. Generally speaking, criminal types listened to the leader, and this man was standing front and center. If he gave him permission to pass through, the others would at the very least hesitate enough for him to run past and find a way to cut off the bounty hunter he and his master were currently pursuing. Confusion cut across the sharp features of the man looming before him, but before he had opened his mouth to parrot back the words, Obi-Wan’s vision was cut with bright lights and he realized that he had been hit in the head. Hard.

A feeling of general numbness overtook him as he dropped to his knees, trying desperately to assess the damage. He attempted to blink out the spots and focus as he saw the man before him shaking off the last vestiges of force influence and walking towards him. His arms were pulled painfully behind his back by whoever it was that he had initially failed to notice, and he was shocked at how much that simple action could cause him pain when his head felt like it simply didn’t exist.

“Keep his arms behind him, Sal.” The man punched Obi-Wan in the face, causing pain to radiate out from his right cheekbone, “The little shit is a Jedi.” The other men were smiling, clearly amused by the development.

“How much do those lightsabers go for nowadays, boss?” One of the men walked over, reaching down to unhook the saber from his belt. He tried to wrench his arms free to use the force, but “Sal” only pulled them back tighter, not halting his pull until Obi-Wan let out a pained whimper from the strain in his shoulders. He felt warm laughter in his ear and shuddered as it struck him just how bad the situation was.

“A fortune, Alma, if you can move them. Damn tough to sell though.” Obi-Wan’s discomfort deepened as the man before him gripped his jaw, forcing his head up to look at him. “Are you alone, Jedi?” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes.

“Of course not,” he sputtered out, finding it difficult to speak evenly with his head pulled at such an odd angle. “I’m not daft.” That comment earned him another punch to the face. Surprising, considering he hadn’t thought it to be very inflammatory as far as comments went.

“I think you’re lying.” The man before him smiled, reaching out to touch the abused section of Obi-Wan’s face. He closed his eyes at the pain. “Hey Sal, what did you say the Jedi did to your brother again?” The hot breath near his ear returned, and he could tell the man behind him was smiling.

“Left him to rot in jail,” he sneered. “He was just a kid. Didn’t even make it a month.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have broken the law,” Obi-Wan quipped back before he could think better of it. One of these days his mouth was going to get him killed, and considering the circumstances it could very well be today. He expected the hit to come at his face again, and yelped in surprise when instead there was a sharp pain where his shoulder met his neck. He realized at some point during the laughter that he had been bitten.

“What do you think we should do, Sal. Kill him? Let him go?” The other men were moving in around him now. Four of them total. If he could just move his arms he was sure he could escape, even if it meant losing his saber. Unfortunately, he couldn’t move his arms, so that line of thinking was a tad irrelevant.

“Help me with his arms.” The voice behind him was gruff with barely contained excitement, and Obi-Wan began to panic in earnest as the other two men removed their belts and began using them to restrain his arms tightly and uncomfortably behind him. He tried vainly to free his arms as Sal released them, but only managed to cause more pain to erupt at his shoulders. He reached into his bond with Qui-Gon, sending a wave of pain and fear, and he felt one of urgency in return. His master was looking for him. “I say we give him the same treatment my brother got in prison.” Obi-Wan renewed his struggle in earnest as he felt a hand reaching around him and up under his tunics, searching for the waistband of his pants. Surely this wouldn’t happen. If he could just draw this out long enough Qui-Gon would come for him. Pain exploded in the back of his head as he was struck again, and this time he found it harder to draw himself back to coherency.

“You’ll hold still, whore, if you know what’s good for you.” There was laughter from the others as the tie on his waistband was undone, and he felt his thin pants and underclothes being pushed down. He shut his eyes tight, fighting the vertigo that had set in and wondering how the world could be spinning when he couldn’t even see it. He searched desperately in his bond with Qui-Gon, knowing he could not control what feelings he projected but still needing to feel the closeness. He found only more urgency, this time laced with fear.

Being penetrated hurt all the way into his gut and up his spine, and he cried out incoherently in pain and surprise. He heard Sal let out a groan falling somewhere between pain and pleasure before cursing under his breath and the sound of spitting.

“Good thing we got a pretty one, eh?” One of the men who’s names he didn’t know spoke up. The one who wasn’t in charge. “Imagine doing this to one of those crusted up old ones.” Obi-Wan cried out again as Sal pressed his erection in further. Force, he’d assumed it was in all the way already.

“Open his jaw, Sal.” Obi-Wan whimpered as a hand was removed from his hip and moved it’s way to press at the sides of his face, fingers digging in between his teeth and forcing his mouth open. The other hand reached around to cup his genitals, and Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open in surprise as he realized he was half hard.

“For fuck’s sake,” Alma jibed, “give us something to watch, Sal.” Sal bit down on Obi-Wan’s neck, and he felt a trickle of blood as his nausea returned in full force. He might have considered vomiting had the man in front of him not taken that moment to shove his cock into his mouth. At the same time, Sal began to move, and Obi-Wan could feel his skin sticking distastefully to the intrusion as it was pulled out before being pressed into him again, lancing pain through his body and causing him to sputter helplessly as his throat was taken up by the man in front of him.

“How many Jedi at that temple of yours have fucked you like this.” The man before him sneered down, knowing full well that no answer could be formed around the cock in his throat. Obi-Wan couldn’t even breath, much less speak, and he was certain he was going to vomit. He did his best to narrow his eyes in response, which earned him nothing more than a pat on the cheek as he pulled out, allowing Obi-Wan a sputtering breath before pushing in again, this time pushing himself so far in that Obi-Wan’s throat burned and his nose was pressed revoltingly against the man’s pubic hair. He was held in place by a tight grip on the back of his hair, but the movement behind him didn’t cease. It felt as if he was being torn apart with a hot iron and strangled at the same time.

Sal made an obscene sound behind him, pushing in once more as Obi-Wan began to see spots, and then the tempo reversed. Suddenly, Sal had ceased fucking him, pulling himself free with a sickening feeling of suction before reaching his hand around to stroke Obi-Wan’s dick. The man before him removed himself once more, and tears fell from the corners of his eyes as he breathed in desperately before the grip on his hair tightened and his mouth was being fucked. Breathing was a struggle as his attention was torn between the assault on his mouth and his shame regarding his quickly hardening member, and he distantly heard the men around him laughing once more at his humiliation.

Sal moved aside, keeping his hand carefully on Obi-Wan’s jaw to keep him from biting as he did so, and Obi-Wan felt another person kneel behind him.

“Fuck.” It was Alma, and the way he spoke as he pushed into Obi-Wan was lewd and demeaning. “Fuck you’re tight. Even after that.” Alma didn’t hesitate, thrusting shallowly and quickly from the start. Obi-Wan felt distinctly like a rag doll as he was pulled and pushed in two directions, unable to control where his body went. Unable to control it’s reaction as Sal continued stroking him, a knowing smile on his face as Obi-Wan felt his body nearing the inevitable.

“You barely even fought us, whore,” Alma whispered in his ear, his breathing shallow. “Is it because you wanted it, or because you can’t fight in the first place? The only reason the Jedi would need something like you would be to use it as intended. Bent over and screaming.” Obi-Wan screwed his eyes shut and focused on trying not to cum. He focused on the pain in his ass, literal and figurative. He focused on the burning in his throat and realized he was yelling incoherently as the dick was removed and something warm splashed onto his face. Shame washed over him as he realized he would be unable to risk opening his eyes without getting the man’s semen in them. His own orgasm wracked his body a moment later, causing him to convulse painfully. He coughed, gagging and spitting as he clenched around the man behind him. Alma slapped his ass as he came inside of him, but all Obi-Wan could focus on was coughing and breathing until he was pushed face forward onto the rough ground.

“Your turn, Yareel.” Obi-Wan relaxed on the ground as best as he could, the pain in his body unbearable as he lay awkwardly on the asphalt.

“You’ve already fucked him raw,” came another voice from above him. “I’m not sticking my dick in that.” Obi-Wan almost cried from relief.

“You don’t have to.” It was Sal’s voice that responded, and he heard shuffling and laughter as he walked over to the others. Obi-Wan had only just started cataloging his extensive injuries when a weight settled over his legs.

“You sure you don’t want the honor, Sal?” It was Yareel.

“I already did my part.” Sal returned to Obi-Wan’s line of sight, smirking. “Besides, I want to see his face.” There was a press of something cold against his ass. Something bigger than had been in him previously, and he cried out desperately as the object began to press inside of him.

“This is probably why they gave him the damn thing in the first place.” Alma’s voice was thick with laughter as he spoke. “It’s not as if he tried to fight us with it.” Obi-Wan’s eyes widened with realization as they spoke. It was his lightsaber. The sacred object he’d built with his own hands. Travelled to Ilum to gather the crystals for. His life.

“Please, no,” he rasped, feeling the cool metal press further inside him. It felt impossibly large, pushing his body out of his way painfully as it moved along it’s blood and cum slicked path. He was briefly glad that he favored a more slender hilt than most.

“Do you want me to stop, Jedi?” Yareel’s voice rang out from behind him, and he found he could no longer see Sal or Alma through the tears in his eyes.

“Please, stop.” He gasped as the hilt was jerked in further. His body wasn’t built to handle this. He could feel it protesting with every millimeter the metal was forced inside of him. The tears were falling from his eyes now and he couldn’t stand the laughter that rang out in response. He wished Yareel would turn on the lightsaber somehow and allow it to smelt his insides. At least his death that way would be quicker than the torture preceding it.

When the sound of a lightsaber activating hit his ears, he thought perhaps he’d accidentally managed to use the force despite his current position. The screams in his ears however, didn’t belong to him. He wasn’t the one being pulverized and it dawned on him that it was Master Qui-Gon’s lightsaber that had activated. There was no other explanation. Four souls around him passed from the living force, and a hand began frantically undoing the belts around his arms. Needles shot through his limbs as they were finally freed, and he threw them in front of him as pain shot upwards to his shoulders once again. A moment later, he realized his Master was speaking to him. He attempted to push himself up to face the man, but felt pain lancing him from the still inserted saber. He settled for turning his head to the side instead, looking wanly up at worried eyes.

“Obi-Wan.” The voice sounded worried.

“Master,” he responded, simply. A relieved look washed over the man’s face and he wondered how many times he had ignored his own name.

“Obi-Wan, I can’t move you like this.” Obi-Wan looked up at him knowingly. He could hardly move in his current condition. “I’m going to call a healer down to us.”

“No!” Obi-Wan choked out.

“Obi-Wan, I hardly know how to do this safely.”

“Please, Master.” He turned to press his face into the ground, preferring the discomfort to the eye contact. “I don’t want anyone to see me this way.” There was a heavy silence, and then a shift of movement.

“I will try, padawan.” Obi-Wan let out a sob of relief. “But if I think I’m doing any sort of damage to you, we’re calling the healers immediately. And you will still see them on our return to the temple.”

“Yes, anything. Force.” Obi-Wan let out another sob. “Just get it _out_.” He flinched as he felt Qui-Gon begin to handle the hilt, testing the pressure needed to remove it. Obi-Wan did his best to relax his muscles, but found them tensing again the moment he had eased them enough to allow movement. He felt a gentle hand on his back and the soothing presence of the force, and allowed another slight movement. His sobs burst forth in earnest now. He was no longer able to hold anything back as the tension released from his body, and Qui-Gon continued to pull the offending saber from him. Painfully, distressingly slowly.

“It’s almost out, padawan.” His master’s voice was too high in timbre, but at least he was holding himself together. Obi-Wan wasn’t even able to keep himself from letting out a high, distressed cry as it was finally removed from his body. He lay limply on the ground, ashamed.

“Can you stand, Obi-Wan?” He brought a hand forward and struggled to his knees, wincing as every muscle in his body protested. He gave his master a tired look, and he knew that in that moment he looked pathetic. Master Qui-Gon looked profoundly worried. Obi-Wan shook his head, suddenly feeling too tired even to speak, and he felt himself keening over into his Master’s grasp. “That’s alright, Obi-Wan. I’ll call lower level security and they will escort us back to the temple.”

The wait for security was short but tenuous. Obi-Wan was shaking in Qui-Gon’s arms focusing on the man’s warmth and movement as he helped Obi-Wan to look more presentable. His pants were pulled up and tied and his tunics rearranged, all while a steady hand had remained wrapped around him to hold him still. Obi-Wan was glad for his efforts when the gruff security officers arrived. The state he was in was already bad enough, and he had to swallow his embarrassment as Qui-Gon lifted him and settled him into the speeder they were to borrow. Sitting hurt more than kneeling, but that was to be expected. Obi-Wan leaned over during the long ride up to the surface, and despite the jostling and misery he found himself drifting off. The last thing he remembered before he finally permitted himself to sleep was Qui-Gon’s hand running through his hair and the fond, force suggestion laden word—

“Sleep.”


End file.
